


What You Deserve

by EzraTheBlue



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bullying, Carrying, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Poor Prompto Argentum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzraTheBlue/pseuds/EzraTheBlue
Summary: When Gladio finds Prompto after he's been pushed around by his fellow Crownsguard trainees, he takes it upon himself to put Prompto back together and help build him back up. That's what Prompto really deserves... and maybe more.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum
Comments: 24
Kudos: 171





	What You Deserve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wirefoxboys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirefoxboys/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to a buddy of mine, wirefoxboys! I'm a day ~~week~~ late and a dollar short, but I hope you like it!
> 
> This fic came from a prompt list, featuring 20 prompts. I've decided to incorporate the following six:
> 
> 20\. Bandaging each other up  
> 14\. Comfort hugs  
> 15\. One picking the other up  
> 19\. Play-wrestling  
> 6\. Spooning  
> 1\. Accidentally falling asleep together  
> 18\. Conversations at 3 in the morning
> 
> Please enjoy!

**What You Deserve**

Gladio opened his locker, and Prompto tumbled out onto the locker room floor.

Not really how he’d expected this afternoon to go.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed the other Crownsguard recruits picking on Prompto since he’d moved into the Crownsguard housing and joined the current training group for a few months of combat practice before the big Altissia trip. He’d done his best to avoid showing favoritism, but it was hard. Prompto was so damn earnest about the whole thing, he tried his best and he was a crack shot with that pistol, so he was earning every bit of praise he got. Some of the recruits who weren’t picking things up as fast were definitely jealous of the attention he got from Gladio and Cor. 

Gladio had stepped in when they’d been razzing Prompto before, pushing him or shoving him by bumping his shoulder. Prompto had gotten his hair pulled a few times. Gladio had caught the other recruits pushing him against the wall, heard rumors about them forcing him to hold wall sits until his legs gave out from under him, came in on the aftermath of them breaking into his locker to steal his things while they were training and leaving them under the shower tap, running cold. He couldn’t figure out who was doing what, and while Cor asked him to keep a close eye on him or at least find out when it was happening so they could check the cameras, Gladio hadn’t managed to pinpoint anything. None of the recruits were flipping on one another, and even Prompto was hesitant to name names:

“It’s just, y’know, playing around, right?”

Gladio didn’t think it was right.

Even less right was Prompto, a heap of bruised limbs all-a shiver, groaning on the concrete tiles in front of his locker. Instantly, Gladio regretted not moving fast enough to catch him. He swore and dropped down to scrape Prompto off the ground. Prompto yelped and flinched, covering his face and sucking his lips in around his teeth, but Gladio turned his hold into a hug.

“Hey! Hey, it’s okay! It’s me!”

Prompto had been softly hyperventilating, but his heavy, panicked breathing evened out into panting and soft whimpering. “G… Gladio?” Gladio held Prompto at arm’s length, setting him down on the bench so Prompto could see his face, and so Gladio could get a look at him. Prompto’s lower lip was swollen, his right eye was blacked, he had scuffs and bruises all over his arms and legs. His Crownsguard tee was ripped, and Gladio could see fingerprint bruises dug in on his chest. Gladio’s face worked, and he shook his head.

“It’s me, short stuff.” He took in Prompto’s injuries, seeing more bruises every time he looked, then shook his head. “Who did this?”

“It’s-”

“Don’t you dare say it’s fine.”

“It’s what I deserve, right?” Prompto smiled weakly, his bruised lip sagging, and he drew his knees in on the bench. Gladio inhaled sharply, as Prompto muttered, “What’s a Niff like me doing in the Crownsguard, anyway?”

Gladio clenched his fists. “Names. Now.” 

Prompto sucked on his lower lip for a second. “Mercurius. Eugenium. Donatus.”

“Good man.” He sent Cor a text, then knelt down by Prompto. “Lemme patch you up, okay?” 

Prompto gave a jerky nod, then began to swing his legs off of the bench. Gladio instead scooped him up like a puppy, one arm under his thighs and the other around his back, and put Prompto’s chest to his. Prompto froze up, and that made Gladio’s chest ache.

He liked Prompto. More than he’d readily admit to anyone but himself. Prompto was earnest and sweet, and much shyer than he usually let on, which Gladio found equal parts cute and relatable. He was lighthearted, and his wide eyes and mouth were so expressive that Gladio couldn’t help but tease him just to watch his face. Prompto could be a little pesky, but it was always in good humor. No matter what Gladio thought of Prompto’s flaws, nobody had the right to do this to him.

“We’re going back to my place. I’m gonna keep you there ‘til Cor’s got this sorted out.” 

“But Gladio-”

“No buts.” Gladio patted Prompto’s backside, earning a little yelp. “Except this one, which is gonna sit on my couch all night instead of in the Guard dorms, where I can’t keep an eye on you.”

Prompto slouched, chin on Gladio’s shoulder. “But-”

“That wasn’t a suggestion. Let’s go.” Gladio kept walking with Prompto at his chest. He didn’t stop, ignoring all the stares he got from the other Crownsguard members or Citadel personnel as he strolled by with Prompto to his chest.

His own heart pounding was harder to ignore, but if Prompto noticed, he hadn’t said anything. 

The ride back to his house was almost silent except for Prompto’s faint sniffling. Gladio was always nervous behind the wheel (he felt too big crammed in the family sedan, he’d be grateful if the day came when he never had to drive again), but he still peeled a hand off the wheel to sling an arm over Prompto’s shoulder. He didn’t know what to say to him yet, because how could words be enough after all that? He just rubbed his upper back. “It’s okay, man. I’ve got you.”

He escorted Prompto to the door, his arm right back around his shoulder. Jared came to greet them, but his eyes went wide to see Prompto. “Hey, Jared.” Gladio gave Prompto a gentle jostle, shaking his arm around and making Prompto sway a little. “Which bathroom’s got the best first aid kit?”

Jared immediately snapped back to attention, expression mild, but still set in a way that Gladio knew he meant business. He was all too used to patching both Gladio and Iris up after their rough-and-tumble play or Gladio’s rough training sessions. “Your father’s. I’ll fetch it for you.” He hurried off, and Gladio scooped Prompto right back up.

“Hey!” Prompto squeaked in protest. “Gladio!”

“Told you, I’m gonna take care of you.” 

Gladio took Prompto to his own bedroom and settled him on the bed. "Lemme give you a clean shirt." Gladio grabbed one of his tees from the drawer and passed it to Prompto, who didn't hesitate to change out of his torn tee. Gladio's shirt swamped him, but Prompto didn't seem to mind, and Gladio definitely… the opposite of minded. Even so, his chest ached when Prompto curled in on himself, knees pulled close and hands tucked under his thighs.

Prompto didn't deserve whatever emotions were sinking his spirit.

Jared arrived a moment later with the big first aid kit, as well as a basin and some washcloths. Gladio accepted, whispered his thanks, and returned to Prompto. Prompto fidgeted weakly as Gladio popped the kit open.

“You really don’t have to.”

“Nah, but I want to.” Gladio took Prompto’s hand off of his leg and turned it over. Prompto had some nasty bruises on his knuckles, and they were split and bloody. “Fought back, didn’t you?”

“As hard as I could,” Prompto muttered. “Wasn’t like I _wanted_ to be shoved in the locker.”

Gladio grinned. “That’s the way.” He splayed Prompto’s hand in his, then dabbed a cotton ball with disinfectant. “This is gonna hurt, but it’s worth it.” 

He pressed the cotton ball to the split between Prompto’s index and middle fingers, and Prompto hissed. Gladio hushed him, rubbing little circles on the back of his palm, then moved on to the next split. “I know, man, I know; I'd rather just kiss 'em better, but they’ll heal better this way.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt right now!” Prompto laughed weakly, but he cooperated and let Gladio wrap bandages all around his knuckles and hands. Gladio went to clean the bruises on Prompto’s eye, clicking his tongue.

“We really should’a gotten some ice on this earlier.” He found a cold pack in the first aid kit, cracked it, and wrapped it in a washcloth. “Here, can you hold this?”

Prompto pressed the ice pack against his eye with a sigh, and Gladio finished with the scrapes and abrasions on Prompto’s arms and legs, bandaging the bigger ones and cleaning the smallest ones with disinfectant. “Did I miss anything?”

“Just my butt.” Prompto wiggled indicatively. “It’s bruised.” He winked at Gladio. “Wanna kiss that one better?”

Gladio snorted and lightly punched Prompto’s shoulder. “I think you’ll be fine.”

Prompto punched him back. “How do you know?”

“Because I’ve been hurt way worse than you, and I’ve healed up just fine.” Gladio indicated the scar over his eye, tracing right down his eyelid. “You’re as tough as me, y’know.” 

Prompto rolled his eyes as he put the ice pack down. “C’mon-”

“You think I’d be grinning and making shitty jokes if I got beat up and shoved in a locker?” Gladio sat back, arms crossed, then indicated his eye again. “I took this because I took peacekeeping to a knife fight. I won’t lay hands on a Crown citizen, but that won’t stop ‘em from laying hands on me. I tried to play it cool, but I was so mad after it happened I didn’t talk to Noct for a week, beat the shit out of every punching bag in the training hall, and damn near got myself a reprimand from my old man for being too tough in training. You? You’re trying to laugh it off, that’s how tough you are.” He tapped Prompto’s forehead. “You don’t have to play tough for me.” Prompto swatted his hand off, and Gladio chuckled and poked his shoulder. “Or do you?”

“Gladio-”

“Come on.” Gladio playfully poked at Prompto’s chest and cheeks, enjoying the soft giggles each little prod elicited. “Show me how tough you are, hot stuff.” He lightly punched Prompto’s arm, and Prompto laughed and pushed him back.

“Quit that!”

"Make me!" With that, Gladio grinned and tackled him, pinning him to the bed while gingerly avoiding his bandages and scrapes, and Prompto laughed and kicked him, knees and legs bicycling wildly upwards. Gladio tried not to put too much of his weight on Prompto, and that gave Prompto an opening to swing upwards at him and tumble him over. Gladio let Prompto pin him, and Prompto, still laughing, lightly pounded his fists on his chest.

“Watch yourself, you big brute!”

“You watch yourself,” Gladio teased, flashing his teeth, “or maybe you ought’a pick on someone your own size!”

“No way! Who’s supposed to pick on you, then?” Prompto stuck his tongue out at him. “Nobody’s your size!”

Gladio grinned, then used his legs to swing himself up and flip Prompto over again. “Guess I’ll just make do with someone who can keep up!”

He loved that Prompto rose to the challenge, kept up with him, put his heart into everything, ran as fast as he could to reach his goals. He hated how little others could see that in him.

He and Prompto rolled and tussled around until Prompto was faintly panting again, and Gladio knew it was time to stop. He rolled off of Prompto, landed at his side, then slung an arm over his chest. Prompto was still out of breath as Gladio pulled his small body to his chest, Prompto’s knobby spine against his breast, knees tucked into Prompto's thighs, and held him tight. He still wasn’t sure of the right words to say, but he had to try: “You know you’re a good kid, right?”

Prompto didn’t answer him. Gladio could see his long eyelashes fluttering, and realized just how exhausted he had to be now that the adrenaline was truly wearing off. He instead ran his fingers through Prompto’s hair, soothing him down as he fell away. Prompto deserved a little rest. He deserved way more than that, if Gladio was being honest, but right now, Gladio would let him shut his eyes.

Gladio even let his own eyelids fall shut out of sympathy.

The next time he opened his eyes, the room was dark and his chest was cold. Prompto was gone, but when Gladio rolled over, there was a light swaying in the hallway: a cell phone being used as a flashlight. Gladio groped for the desk and found his own phone. The time on the display read “3:04 a.m.” Damn, he’d slept way longer than he meant to, and right through dinner, to boot.

His stomach growled, and Gladio realized just what might have gotten Prompto up. 

He trundled down to the kitchen, following soft footsteps creaking on the floor, and reached the kitchen just as Prompto turned on a low light over the stove. Gladio knocked on the doorframe that divided the kitchen from the hall, and Prompto jumped a little, before grinning over at him. “Oh, hey big guy. Did I wake you?”

“Not exactly.” Gladio trudged over to join him at the refrigerator. “Didn’t mean to let you sleep that long anyway.”

“I think we both needed it.” Prompto grinned big, then opened the refrigerator door. “I actually woke up for a few minutes a few hours ago when Jared came in to get the first aid kit back. He said he would put some sandwiches aside for us if we got peckish later." Prompto gave a noncommital shrug. "Nice guy.”

“Yeah, he is,” Gladio agreed as he caught sight of the stacked steak sandwiches waiting for him and Prompto, and grabbed a pitcher of cold green tea from the door. “Little midnight snack?”

“Totally.” 

They sat at two barstools at the kitchen counter, Prompto’s legs dangling and swinging as he devoured his share. Gladio found it hard to even take a bite as he took Prompto in, faintly golden in the dim light. Even with his knuckles wrapped in gauze, hair mussed like a ruffled chocobo's crest, and dark circles under his eyes, Gladio was stricken at the sight of him. He still glowed.

Nobody else saw it. Gladio hated that.

His feelings about Prompto were much more complicated. Still, he owed Prompto a conversation. A three-in-the-morning conversation, made too honest by weariness and raw minds that hadn’t had time to build up their defenses, was probably the closest Gladio could get to what he really wanted to say. 

"Hey." Gladio swung his leg and nudged Prompto's foot with his own. "Earlier. You said… when those assholes roughed you up and shoved you in a locker… You deserved it?"

Prompto choked a little on his sandwich, then hung his head. "Uh…"

Gladio fixed him with a hard look. "You know that's bullshit, right? You're so much more than just a Niff, and, seriously, to me, you ain't a Niff at all."

This got Prompto to jerk his head around, and he gawked at Gladio, eyes wide and full of so many emotions that Gladio couldn't pick them all out. "But-"

"No buts this time." Gladio put his sandwich down. "You're adopted, yeah, but you've been a Crown citizen for as long as anyone who matters has known you, which, it turns out, is a damn long time." He rested a hand on Prompto's shoulder and held his gaze. "You're not Niff. Niffs don't join the Crownsguard. Niffs don't make nice with us, and they sure as hell don't get buddy-buddy with the Prince just because they want a gaming partner. I've never known a Niff who laughs and smiles the way you do. Ain't no Niffs like you. Hell, there's hardly any Lucians like you." Gladio clapped his hand down. "You didn't deserve that. Not from anyone, and especially not from another Crownsguard, or anyone who's supposed to be your friend."

"Yeah, but-"

"I told you, no buts." Gladio gripped Prompto's shoulder. "Trust me on this. I've seen guys who don't care. I know when a soldier deserves reprimand and correction. I know when one of my friends doesn't deserve my friendship. You deserve better."

Prompto was staring at him now, looking equal parts devastated and hopeful. "What do you mean?"

Gladio hadn't expected this to go this direction, but hell, he knew what he wanted to say, at least. "You deserve something a little more like this." He leaned in - Prompto leaned close, then tipped his head and pressed a chaste kiss over soft, bruise-tender lips, then brushed his lips across his forehead.

Prompto was quiet, mouth just parted in shock, and Gladio couldn’t help but kiss those lips again, waiting for Prompto to tell him that was the last kiss he was getting out of him, but instead, Prompto tentatively kissed him back. He nipped at Gladio’s lower lip, then jumped off his stool and into Gladio’s chest. Gladio caught him easily, his warm, lithe body fitting neatly into his arms, limber arms and legs closing around him like a vice, and Gladio embraced him in return, the two slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. He kissed him deep and slow now, making this first kiss worth it.

After all, Prompto deserved the best, and Gladio wanted him to have it. This time, he got to deliver Prompto all the love and admiration he'd earned personally.


End file.
